Sticks and Stones
by LetMeChooseAFreakingName
Summary: Whoever said "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," has clearly never been in my shoes. He has never met my parents. Possibly never been in Tulsa. If he had just one day, living the I do, he would never think the same again. A view inside the mind of Johnny Cade. One shot.


**I feel like I owe everyone a one-shot since I haven't posted in what seems like forever. Especially my main frutatas. You know who you are.**

 **This contains verbal child abuse, (yes that is a thing), and thoughts of suicide nothing too serious) so if you don't like it don't read. Also there are mentions of physical abuse.**

 **I do not own The Outsiders or any of the characters.**

Whoever said "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," has clearly never been in my shoes. He has never met my parents. Possibly never been in Tulsa. If he had just one day, living the I do, he would never think the same again.

I think I like it better when the ole' man is beating me, at least he knows I'm there. Sadly, I can't say the same for my mom. I never existed in her idea of a perfect life. She ignores me most of the time. When she doesn't I am like a ball of glue, getting every single bad thing stuck to me. It haunts me, and it always will.

XxX

"You comin' in Johnnycakes?" Ponyboy's voice came from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and shrugged. I haven't been home for a while. Maybe I should sleep in my own bed tonight.

"Nah. Imma head to my house." I can't call that place 'home'. It never will be a home again. It used to be, but ever since I was seven it will never go back to normal. This is the new 'normal'. Unless my parents decide to be my mom and dad. Not just the people who created me. I know that will never happen though.

When I was younger, I had high hopes that I will have a normal life. I used to day dream about having parents like the Curtis'. We would go out together, stay in together. They would ask about my day, help me with homework. But that was then. Now I know better. I will never have the 'perfect' family, or even an average one. My whole life I would have terrible, abusive parents. I can't change that. It took me long enough to learn.

I looked at te house before me. Dead grass. Paint that has been peeling for years. The old bike the Curtis' got me for my tenth birthday. The wheels are broken now. It worthless, but to me it is priceless.

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. My legs carried me to the door, no matter how much my brain told them not to. Before I knew it my hand was turning the doorknob. The door made a loud creak when I opened it. I unwillingly cringed, hoping 'they' weren't home. Nobody's voice boomed through the house, and the floor wasn't creaking under my fathers heavy footsteps. Safe, I thought, safe for now.

I walked to the kitchen as fast as I can. The fridge had a few apples, half a gallon of milk, a few condiments and some beer. I grabbed the milk jug and hugged some down, only for it to be spit out when I realized it is old. Quickly, I grabbed a paper towel and wiped up my mess.

I tip toed to my room, using every bit of luck I had that my dad wasn't passed out in his room. I just so happened to have enough. I slowly shut my bedroom door and took a stride over to my bed. The mattress squeaked as I sat. My shoes were removed from my feet, and rested under the bed.

My arms folded behind my head as it fell to the pillow. I closed my eyes. For the first time in forever I daydreamed.

I thought about life as a normal teenager. Having a family. No jumping at the sight of my shadow. I daydreamed about a place where nobody had to live like this. Not Steve. Not Dally. Not me. Nobody. Everybody would live in suburban houses. White picket fences would separate my house from the neighbors. Maybe the Curtis' could be my neighbors. Maybe Dally, Two-bit, or Steve. Their families would be perfect too. I would have a dog. A golden retriever named Bubba. My parents would have nice jobs. Everyone would wish they had my parents, like I used to with Mr and . We would-

A loud slam stopped my train of thought. That's funny. I never heard the door open. I have always been aware of those ... I FORGOT TO CLOSE THE FRONT DOOR. Loud footsteps echoed through the house. My heart began racing. I jumped to the door and fumbled with the lock. I was too late. The door swung open hitting my forehead. I reached for my face and felt blood, slowly creating a trail down the bridge of my nose.

My father pushed me onto the bed and punched me square in the face. Then my stomach. I continued taking the beating, never shedding a tear. He stopped hitting me and his large figure towered over me. His face was red as a beet and his eyebrows made a furious scowl. His breathing was rapid and full of rage.

Then he exploded. His rage took over his body and he spat is hatred for me. I am useless. I am stupid. I am ungrateful. I should die, burn down with the demons that corrupted my brain. My mother soon walked into the room and began joining in on his 'fun'. I never should have been born. I was a mistake. They should've got rid of me when they had the chance.

Then I started crying. They are right. I am ungrateful, wishing for another life. Stupid for coming here in the first place. I wish they did get rid of me. That way I would have never had to deal with this. What is this. This pain? This suffering? The pity the gang gives me? Every problem I ever had? I am not quite sure what I meant by 'this'. If 'this' meant the words my parents label me as, I hope my wish does come true.

 **Done. Done done done done, DONE. I am really pleased with this one-shot. It is at a different (more mature ,possibly) level from my usual writings. I know I made mistakes but oh well. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has those days. Everybody knows what, what I'm talking 'bout. Everybody gets that way. Okay I'm done with the Hanna Montannah. Please review and let me know if you like it. I might be posting more one shots like this.**


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